A Single Cigarette
by tectrices
Summary: IsshinxMasaki He didn't smoke much - only after he'd lost a patient or Masaki had made his whole body sing.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach._ Isshin/Masaki - part of a series of sorts

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Isshin looked earnestly toward the ceiling, ignoring the look of disapproval on his young wife's face. A thick stream of smoke curled towards the dingy, off-white ceiling as he exhaled. Masaki sighed.

"What?" he whined. "I always smoke." He grinned at her rakishly before taking another drag. "Especially after amazing sex with my beautiful new wife."

Masaki reddened and looked away. "Isshin…" She took his free hand and placed it gently on her abdomen. "We might have just made a baby."

That certainly got his attention. "A… baby?" He looked intently at where his hand lay under hers, where the soft skin of her stomach spread out to become the rest of her body. Even if she wasn't pregnant, Masaki always seemed to glow. He let the cigarette hang in his mouth as his other hand gently stroked her cheek.

She nodded. "Would that be… okay?" Her voice was soft and hesitant – but he heard hope in her words like the tinkling of a bell.

He thought again that he was the luckiest man to ever exist. He would give anything to make the woman before him happy, do anything she ever asked of him. Even if he didn't want a child, he would never dream of taking her happiness away. It was only luck that he was as excited about parenthood as she was.

With a flourish he took his cigarette and stubbed it out on the kitchen floor. Masaki bothered to let the irritation flash across her face only for a moment; their conversation was more important, and he was well aware that he'd be made to clean it up. "A baby would be more than okay, Masaki. You would be the most amazing mother in the world – and I cannot wait for that to happen. I want to see you hold the child we made." She smiled, her eyes wet with joy. "But it has to be a boy," Isshin reminded her, bopping her nose softly with one large finger.

Masaki giggled. "A son first, to help protect the family." She smiled at him fondly as she recalled their first date, and the conversation about the beautiful family they'd one day have. "Do you still want three?"

"Only three?" He leaned in and kissed her, a hand on either side of her face, bringing her lips softly to his. His eyes were half-closed when he pulled away, one hand falling down to his side. "I want at least ten."

"Isshin…" She rolled her eyes.

He chuckled. "What? We'd love them all!"

She pecked his cheek. Then she rose, completely unashamed of her nudity; he appreciated that quality. Her body was so young and fresh, skin still so smooth and soft, organs pumping inside, blood rushing around, keeping her strong and alive. Isshin looked down at his own body, which technically wasn't even his own. For one of the first times since they'd been together, he felt guilty that he was lying to her.

"We need to get dressed," she said lightly, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water.

"If you say so." He stretched and then stood up as well, grabbing the pants he had thrown off and pulling them back on. He came up behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her. "I love you," he whispered, mouth on her neck.

"I know," she replied, a hand tangling in his hair. One hand fluttered at her belly, subconsciously expressing the hope growing wild in her heart. "I love you, too."

When they found out not long after that she was pregnant, neither could have been happier. Isshin had one last cigarette before Masaki regrettably took them away.

"Not fair," he whined down at the crumpled pack in the trash, as she callously flipped through a catalog, marking cribs and blankets for their impending bundle of joy.

Masaki ignored him. "You need to get used to not smoking now; it's bad for you and you know I won't allow it around the baby." He whined to himself a little more, stomping around the kitchen in a huff. Masaki hummed lightly to herself, knowing his motivations and completely unswayed by them.

Capable of recognizing defeat when it stared him in the face, Isshin sat down at the table across from his wife, a mug of cold coffee in his hand. "I do this only because I adore you," he told her petulantly.

"I know, dear." After another moment she closed her magazine and looked up at her husband. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" He shook his head, wearing a ridiculous pout on his rough, craggy face. She smiled indulgently. "Well… Maybe one every once in awhile. But only on special occasions." She leaned across the table, smacking a kiss on the side of his mouth. "And only because you just look so cool."

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**A/N:** I hope everyone enjoyed this; it was light-hearted, but there's that slight twinge at the end. I think I could have made it a little stronger, emphasizing a little more just what that small concession later meant to Isshin. But... Eh, I don't think I'm that good of a writer, so I did what I could. I can't help but love the character of Isshin - I only wish his Masaki hadn't been taken away!

If anyone has a suggestion for the name of this little series, I'd love to hear it. I'm drawing a blank. (So far, there's this, "Escapism" and "Hearing Unsung Melodies".)

Reviews are more than appreciated.


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